


Ab Initio

by RK_Anon (Rochelle_Templer)



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo fics [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Romance, Aziraphale does some thinking, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mentions of Violence, Missing Scene, Suicidal Thoughts, and Crowley is there when it goes wrong, and referenced death and murder, angst with a hopeful end which fits with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-10 06:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20130721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/RK_Anon
Summary: “You could stay at my place…if you like.”“I don’t think my side would like that.”“You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do.”“We’re on our own side.”His side. Crowley’s side. Heaven, Hell, Angel, Demon.None of it meant anything anymore. Reality had bent to the will of an eleven year old boy. They had defied the Great Plan as the official forces of Good and Evil had understood it and had pushed the Ineffable Plan into its place...which those same forces seemed mystified by.It all made the concept of inviolable “sides” seem silly and pointless, really.------After the Nonpocalypse, Aziraphale takes Crowley up on his offer to stay at his flat. Thoughts and feelings that had been building from the Beginning rise to the surface...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right after Aziraphale and Crowley get on the bus to Oxford...or London with Crowley's help....
> 
> This chapter is also a prompt fill for the Ineffable Husbands bingo square: crying.

_“You could stay at my place…if you like.”_

_“I don’t think my side would like that.”_

_“You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do.”_

_“We’re on our own side.”_

The conversation had ended several minutes ago, but it had taken until the bus had stopped, they had gotten on, and they were well on their way before Aziraphale’s brain fully processed what had been said.

His side. Crowley’s side. Heaven, Hell, Angel, Demon.

None of it meant anything anymore. Reality had bent to the will of an eleven year old boy. They had defied the Great Plan as the official forces of Good and Evil had understood it and had pushed the Ineffable Plan into its place...which those same forces seemed mystified by.

It all made the concept of inviolable “sides” seem silly and pointless, really.

“Wake me when we get to London,” Crowley had muttered, sliding down in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

Aziraphale had only given him a hint of a nod in response, but he was sure that Crowley had understood. Currently, the two of them were sitting side by side. No more of the ridiculous “get thee behind me, Foul Fiend” pantomime to try to fool people into thinking they weren’t together. Crowley had sat by the window, leaving Aziraphale near the aisle. That was all right. There was hardly anyone on the bus anyway.

The angel watched the English countryside roll through the window around him. It provided a welcome distraction even with only vague dark shapes suggesting the scenery that was there.

_‘So…where am I going tonight?’_

Aziraphale sighed. As an angel, he didn’t technically need to have a particular place to go. Angels didn’t need sleep normally. And there were places that were open at all hours. There were always things to do.

What he wanted to do, what he longed to do, was tend to his books. Some first editions had arrived from Germany last week, and he hadn’t had a chance to examine any of them yet with this whole world-ending business going on. His contact in Berlin had assured him of their quality, and it was a task Aziraphale was looking forward to.

But…

He couldn’t do that now. Or ever. Nor could he revisit his favorite prophecy books and contemplate the places they had gotten wrong in light of how recent events unfolded and compare them to Agnes Nutter’s amazing, if obtuse, accuracy. Nor could he revisit old friends and acquaintances he had known through the centuries through their writings.

All of it was gone. The thought of it hurt even more than the ache he had felt while watching the library in Alexandria burn…and that had plenty painful to watch. It was such a dreadful loss. Unnecessary and petty.

The angel sighed again and shook his head. When it happened, he hadn’t been able to appreciate how Crowley must have felt while watching his precious Bentley burn and fall to pieces. He had been too focused on trying to save the world from being reduced to a smoldering cinder. But now that it was all over and there was time for reflection, Aziraphale could empathize with the loss Crowley must have felt.

_‘Maybe I could find him another car. Something like it. I have contacts all over Europe. Surely some of them would be able to give me some leads on where I could get an acceptable substitute.’_

Aziraphale considered this for a second more before discarding the idea. He doubted that any car he could find could truly take the place of Crowley’s Bentley. Just as Crowley could present him with a new, fully stocked bookshop, and it still wouldn’t be the same.

No, the Bentley, the bookshop, the way things had been before…that was all gone now. Burned away. Thanks to Adam’s intervention, Armageddon had been averted and the world could continue on as it did, but he and Crowley would have to start anew.

The angel glanced over to see Crowley slumped even further down in his seat. The demon’s head was swaying slightly from side to side in tandem with the movement of the bus. A fond smile crept onto Aziraphale’s lips.

_‘Asleep already? Well, yes it has been a rather tiring day, hasn’t it? And Crowley is quite fond of sleep. The wily serpent has earned his rest this time. So much for “no rest for the wicked”.’_

The smile fell away into another thoughtful frown. It didn’t feel right to refer to Crowley as “wicked”. Though, technically, Crowley couldn’t be considered anything but that. He was a demon, after all. Wicked is supposed to be a defining trait of demons.

But….

The furrows on Aziraphale’s forehead deepened. How could “wicked” be used to describe someone who was trying to save the world and all the humans on it? Was “wicked” an accurate description for someone who had saved an angel from being kil…inconveniently discorporated multiple times?

Granted, if push came to shove, Aziraphale was aware that he could have gotten himself out of many of those distressing situations. He was a Principality, after all. However, he had also learned that his superiors had taken an exceedingly dim view to any miracle an angel performed that benefitted said angel directly. Even if that direct benefit was defending the corporal body they needed to live on Earth.

It was frustrating, but Aziraphale could see their logic behind it. Angels were meant to serve, not be served. How effective could a Principality be in guarding humankind if so many of their miracles were focused on their own comfort?

Thankfully, Crowley didn’t appear to be constrained by the same sort of guidelines and was generous enough to step in for those times when it would have been…problematic for Aziraphale to help himself.

Generous. Well that wasn’t congruous with wickedness at all. And it wasn’t a word one would associate with a demon either. Crowley simply did not fit into the neat pigeonhole of Wicked Demon. Nor did he fit into many of the other damming adjectives Aziraphale could think of.

A weight suddenly pressed onto his shoulder, startling the angel out of his thoughts. He carefully turned his head to find Crowley’s head leaning into the curve between his neck and shoulder.

The worry lines on Aziraphale’s face softened. That old serpent really was tired. Best to leave Crowley like that then. The demon must be finding some comfort in this close proximity. And wasn’t it an angel’s job to provide comfort and shelter to those who needed it?

_‘Comfort…oh…oh what an idiot I am….’_

If he hadn’t been worried about disturbing Crowley, Aziraphale knew he would have given into the urge to slap his own forehead. It wasn’t just the Bentley that Crowley had lost. When he had called Crowley to tell him about the Antichrist, Crowley had mentioned something about an “old friend” being there. Later, when he contacted Crowley while still discorporated, Crowley had mentioned losing his best friend.

At the time, Aziraphale had only acknowledged this information with basic sympathy and not the way he should have. Yes, some of that, again, was due to the importance of attending to the End of Everything and the need to get straight to the point.

However…if he was honest with himself…as an angel absolutely should be….

Aziraphale squirmed slightly in his seat. Hearing Crowley talk about his “best friend” had also stirred something unpleasant from deep within him. Fortunately, he was able to offer some condolences, but what had taken over his mind in that moment, what had almost derailed their whole conversation, was the thought that he didn’t know who Crowley was talking about. 

Was there someone else who meant so much to Crowley and yet had also remained a complete mystery? A human? Aziraphale supposed that it was possible, but humans had such short lives. How could Crowley form such a deep connection with someone whose existence was like the blink of an eye? A demon? In some ways, it seemed more probable. After all, Crowley was a demon too, so it would make sense for him to feel an affinity to his own kind. Then again, demons weren’t really known for making friends with…anyone really.

No matter how many times he thought it through, Aziraphale could not figure out who Crowley could have meant. Of course, it didn’t help his thinking process when there was an unwelcome sting of selfishness lurking there. Selfishness borne of disappointment that Crowley wouldn’t tell him about this important person.

Even more insidious was the hurt that he wasn’t Crowley’s best friend. Aziraphale considered Crowley to be his closest friend. Not that he had expected Crowley to reciprocate. That truly would be selfish.

And yet….

Aziraphale bowed his head. Those selfish feelings were still churning inside him despite his efforts to let them go, and he was ashamed of that. He had no right to assume so much of Crowley. Besides, he probably didn’t deserve to be Crowley’s best friend. Not when he was more concerned about discovering the identity of this mystery person than offering any support or comfort.

The weight on Aziraphale’s shoulder increased as Crowley leaned against him even more. It pulled the angel out of his thoughts, his eyes dimming in sorrow. As sick at heart as he was over losing the bookshop, Aziraphale was far more concerned about Crowley. The demon had lost so much more than him and would need someone to comfort him.

One of Crowley’s arms slid down, his hand landing on Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel spent several long, agonizing seconds watching it before finally making a decision and gently placing his hand on top of it. Gingerly, he laced his fingers with Crowley’s.

_‘Crowley…I…’_

Aziraphale abruptly turned his gaze back to the landscape rushing by and kept his eyes there for the rest of their journey.

He also did not let go of Crowley’s hand the entire time.

* * *

By the time they made it back to London, Aziraphale had decided to take Crowley up on his offer for a place to stay. The angel doubted that spending time in a demon’s flat would be high on the list of transgressions Heaven had compiled for him. Plus, it was probably prudent to stick together in case either Heaven or Hell decided to act quickly.

It also meant that he could make himself available to Crowley in case he needed additional care. It was the least he could do.

Both of them walked silently with measured steps into the building where Crowley’s flat was. Even though neither of them said it out loud, Aziraphale was quite aware of what they were both thinking: that either Heaven or Hell’s agents could be anywhere and that they needed to be vigilant.

While they walked, Aziraphale kept brushing his thumb across his palm. The palm that had been pressed against the back of Crowley’s hand. When Crowley had woken up, he had looked down at their entwined hands, an unreadable expression on his face. A few seconds later, he let go and did not say a word about it. Aziraphale figured that was for the best.

They crept into the building and down the corridors toward Crowley’s flat. Both of them had stretched their senses all around, searching for both ethereal and occult forces. Once they got to the door, they lingered in the corridor, studying the spiritual plane in the area.

Almost five minutes later, Crowley’s shoulders sagged down in relief. “It’s all right. Come in. Oh um, it’s a bit messy though. Hope that’s ok.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I think I can manage.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and the door swung open. “I just activated some protection sigils I installed recently,” he explained. “Don’t worry, I made sure that you would be able to walk around here without any problem. But they won’t react so well to other angels coming in here. Or to other demons.”

“A wise precaution,” Aziraphale said with a nod. He surveyed the flat with interest. This was only the second time he had been here. The first was the day after Crowley had bought it. He had remembered it as a cold, barren space with poor lighting, but Crowley had acted like it was ideal.

Even with the furnishings, it didn’t seem any cozier now. Although, it did feel very…Crowley, somehow.

A green hue in the corner of his eye caught Aziraphale’s attention and he moved toward it to find a room of lush, vibrant houseplants. Plants that had grown far larger than what was typical for these varieties.

“My dear, this is amazing. Simply wonderful,” Aziraphale said as he turned about in a circle in the center of the room. The last thing he had expected in this flat was a garden and yet that was what this was. A beautiful garden, not unlike a corner of Eden.

Eventually, he turned to see Crowley leaning in the doorway, a smirk on his face.

“You like it?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “Very much, yes.” He stroked the leaves of the plant nearest to him. “I tried to keep some flowers in the shop once. I thought it might brighten up the place. But I never could get them to grow any bigger, the poor things. I ended up giving them to this charming lady who runs the tailor shop a few doors away from me. She did a much better job taking care of them than me.”

Aziraphale inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers in front of him before turning to face Crowley again. “How do you do it?”

Crowley shrugged. “The usual things: water, plenty of sunlight, good soil and some plant food. And I talk to them every day.”

“You talk to them? Oh how endearing. Do you talk about anything in particular?”

A smile, one that was a bit too serpentine, appeared. “I give them incentives to grow.”

It was an oddly vague and rather unexpected response, but Aziraphale couldn’t detect any trace of a lie in it. “Well, that sounds quite ni…thoughtful.”

Aziraphale was about to ask what encouragements Crowley used so that maybe he could try them on a plant of his own when an aura he hadn’t noticed before seeped into his consciousness.

The angel’s brow crinkled. It was an echo. An impression. Something…holy was here. No. It had been holy, but now it was corrupted. Polluted.

Aziraphale’s feet moved of their own accord, searching for the source of this aura. It only took him a moment to find it in a puddle of clothing and water that had something congealed swirling around in it.

The angel stared at it with wide eyes, his face blanching. The sight of…of these remains was bad enough, but that wasn’t what was turning his stomach and making his heart pound through its pain.

This wasn’t water. It was holy water. And not just any holy water. This was holy water he had blessed himself. Holy water he had given to Crowley years ago.

Aziraphale slowly lifted his head to see that Crowley had moved to stand beside him.

“Yeah, that…that is…that was…Liger. He and Hastur were looking for me and…let’s just say they were ready to escort me to the worst performance review ever.”

Aziraphale’s lips moved, but he was genuinely surprised when sound came out of them. “Crowley, I…I….”

Crowley’s head snapped up. “Look, I know what you’re going to say, but it’s not like I had a choice. It was either this or let them drag me back to Hell. And I think we both know how that would have gone.”

The angel’s hands trembled. He struggled to take a full breath. Silly, angels didn’t need to breathe. So why was it suddenly so difficult?

“Crowley, I’m not blaming you for what you did. I….”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his torso, a protective stance, although he didn’t know what he was trying to protect himself from. He focused on taking full breaths until he regained control.

“I should clean this up,” he murmured. “If even one drop of this is still pure, it could destroy you.”

* * *

Several minutes later, Aziraphale sat back onto his heels and yanked off the elbow length gloves from his hands.

In front of where he was kneeling was a spot of floor that was cleaner than anywhere else in the flat. It was probably cleaner than it was when the room was first built. Purified was the best word for it. Sure, he could have simply miracled the mess away, but then he couldn’t be sure if every last particle of the demon sludge and holy water were gone.

And Aziraphale _needed_ to be certain.

The angel waved his hand and sent the gloves into the same sealed container that the rest of the puddle was in. Nothing, not even air, could get inside, and Aziraphale already had a place in mind to send it to. A place where it would never be discovered.

Aziraphale leaned forward, ghosting his fingers over the spot where the puddle had been. Of course, he had known what holy water did when it came into contact with demons, but he had never seen the results firsthand. Now, he was reminded of why he had never been curious to see it.

_‘That could have been Crowley.’_

Every muscle in Aziraphale’s body stiffened. He had been desperate to hold back that thought while he was cleaning the floor, but it came unbidden to him anyway. It was what he had been so fearful of ever since Crowley had requested holy water. That Crowley would use it on himself. That the spells of cynicism and melancholy he had noted from time to time in the demon’s demeanor were hints of something much darker inside. Something Aziraphale would never be able to reach.

As it turns out, Crowley had told him the truth after all. It hadn’t been for him.

It also wasn’t difficult to see what had happened here. He had seen enough silent movies to recognize the old gag. There had been a bucket perched in a doorway. Liger would have had to have chosen to walk through that doorway and into Crowley’s trap.

Crowley had given Liger a choice. He always did, unlike so many of his cohorts.

It was a choice Crowley wouldn’t have been given.

Aziraphale’s hands started to shake again. What would have happened to Crowley if Hastur and Liger had succeeded in their task? Did they have orders to destroy him when they found him? Or was Beelzebub’s order to fetch Crowley and return him to Hell? With so many centuries of experience, Hell would have no shortage of excruciating punishments to employ.

Once Aziraphale started this line of thought, it was impossible to stop. Images of fire, of blood and pain, of screaming in agony…all of it flooded his brain. And in the center of all of it was Crowley.

The tremor in his hands migrated to the rest of his body. He was so caught up in his thoughts, Aziraphale could swear he could hear Crowley plead for mercy that would never come. Not for all Eternity.

_“Angel?”_

Aziraphale closed his eyes. He could spend the rest of his existence praying for Crowley, but it wouldn’t mean a thing.

_“Angel….”_

How many times would Crowley call out for someone…probably him…to help him? To save him? Would Crowley ever give up? Or would he cling to that last desperate hope that an angel would rescue him until the end?

“Aziraphale!”

The angel gasped. Someone was holding his shoulders and gently shaking them. He almost made a frantic attempt to get away until he opened his eyes and found Crowley crouching in front of him.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. “You…you’re all right.”

Crowley’s eyebrows knit together. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then he spotted the container beside them and nodded in understanding. “Don’t worry, none of it got anywhere near me. I took precautions.”

The hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders loosened their grip. “Better question is, are you all right?”

Aziraphale blinked hard. The question was absurd. An awkward smile appeared on his face which was matched by a laugh with a crack in it. “Me? My dear, what on Earth makes you think that I…?”

It was then that Aziraphale felt it. A tear that had been straining its way out of his eye finally slid down his cheek. He reached up to brush it aside and realized that his cheeks were already wet.

_‘Oh….’_

Crowley gave him that look again. It was the look the demon usually had whenever Aziraphale had tried to explain the rationales Heaven had imprinted onto his mind about what God’s Divine Will. Usually during those moments when Aziraphale had his own doubts about the choices being made. The angel had always been polite enough to ignore that look during his lectures.

But right now, Aziraphale could only focus on how very Crowley that expression was. On how impish and clever and deceptively wise that look was. Wise and patient. Aziraphale wondered how he could have been able to endure Eternity without seeing that look ever again.

“I’m sorry.”

It had come as a whisper, barely spoken, but the full body shudder Crowley did in response showed that he had heard.

“Sorry? What have you got to be sorry about, angel?”

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale repeated, louder this time. “I’m so sorry, Crowley. I didn’t….” The angel could hear the wavering in his voice. No, that needed to stop. If he was going to do this, he would do it with a clear and deliberate tone so there would be no ambiguity.

He blinked slowly before speaking again. “I’m sorry. I should have believed you. You asked for insurance, and I didn’t even bother to think about what you could have meant by that. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts and assumptions. If I….” Aziraphale’s voice started to falter again, but determination pushed him onward.

“If I hadn’t given it to you, the holy water I mean, you would have…they would have…they would have taken you away and done who knows what to you. Although, I’m sure I could….”

“Wait, that’s what you’re upset about?” Crowley interrupted. There was incredulity in his voice and that made Aziraphale’s heart even heavier.

“Crowley, if I hadn’t been so selfish…if I hadn’t been such an idiot….”

“But you weren’t. Remember?” Crowley cut in. “You gave me the holy water, and I was able to use it when I needed it. Problem solved.”

“But if I hadn’t!” Aziraphale replied with more force than he had intended. “If I hadn’t you’d be gone and it would have been my fault. Because I didn’t listen to you. Because I, I didn’t….”

Aziraphale wanted to continue, wanted to push past the tightness in his throat, but he couldn’t. Instead, he started to cry again, the tears coming even easier this time.

The angel bowed his head. He couldn’t stand to look at Crowley anymore. Not when the full weight of what had happened finally sank in.

What happened in this flat led to only one conclusion: that he hadn’t been able to protect Crowley.

Misery wormed its way into Aziraphale’s heart. Little wonder why Crowley had asked for insurance. It was the only protection he had and this in spite of the fact that he could consider a Principality a friend. Principalities were meant to be guardians, but Aziraphale saw this as another reminder of why he was such a poor one. Even if he had had his flaming sword, he doubted he could have done much to protect the one person who was dearest to him.

That last thought generated a sound that might have been a laugh, but was too distorted to resemble one.

Crowley, however, wasn’t laughing or even smiling. His hands went back to rubbing Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Angel. Angel, listen to me.”

Aziraphale swallowed hard. He was listening. He really was. It would be horribly rude not to. But listening didn’t have to involve eye contact, did it?

“Aziraphale, please.”

The soft tone with hints of pleading finally drove the angel to raise his head. When he did, he was surprised to see that Crowley had removed his sunglasses and was gazing at him with those golden snake eyes. Did Crowley know how difficult it was for him to look away from those eyes?

“What didn’t happen doesn’t matter,” Crowley added. “You of all people should know that after today. We just watched Adam, the Antichrist himself, undo the Apocalypse so it never happened. And it worked. That’s why this beautiful Earth and all the wonderful, clever humans get to keep on going.”

The demon squeezed Aziraphale’s shoulders. “That is the important thing, angel. Not what could have happened or what almost did happen. And it’s the same for us. You didn’t want to give me the holy water, but you did it anyway. You came through when it mattered, and that’s all I care about. And it’s all you should care about too.”

Aziraphale nodded and wiped his eyes. Everything Crowley said made sense, and he wanted to agree with him.

But…

“I’m still sorry,” he said, his voice far steadier now. “For putting you at risk. And I know it upset you when I refused to give it to you.”

Crowley leaned back, a frown appearing on his face. “It did. But I forgive you.”

Aziraphale blinked hard. Forgive? A demon forgiving an angel? Any other time, he would have considered that impossible. Absurd. And yet….

“Crowley, I…how can you…?”

The demon shrugged. “You forgave me, didn’t you? Me, a demon, one of the Fallen, one who is supposed to be unredeemable and all that.”

“Oh, I see,” Aziraphale said, his face starting to fall. “You’re returning the favor.”

There was a frustrated huff and a shake of Crowley’s head, and Aziraphale was worried that he was saying the wrong thing again.

“I’m saying that if you, an angel, can forgive a demon, why shouldn’t I be able to do the same?”

Aziraphale sniffed hard, shaking his head again. “Quite right. I’m sorry that I….”

“And stop that too,” Crowley retorted, his frown deepening. “You apologized once already. That’s good enough for me. You don’t have to be sorry for having feelings.”

“Crowley, I’m sor…I understand. And thank you.”

The demon nodded and rubbed Aziraphale’s shoulders one last time before letting go so he could get to his feet. “How about a drink? I’ve still got some decent whiskey around here somewhere.”

“Yes, I would…I mean, no,” Aziraphale closed his eyes, counted to five, and then turned his gaze up to Crowley.

“I would love to, dear, but I need to finish this first. Give me a couple of moments, won’t you?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was supposed to be the last chapter, but it turned out longer than I had expected, so I decided to split it for a variety of reasons. But the next one will be the last, I promise.
> 
> This chapter also fulfills another prompt for the Ineffable Husbands Bingo. This one is: first kiss.

After applying additional seals to the container of demon goo, Aziraphale sent the odious thing on its way. Then he trudged out to the living room to join Crowley at the table. A glass of dark liquid was already waiting for him.

“That doesn’t look like whiskey,” the angel said as he sat down.

Crowley was already sipping at the contents of his glass. “That’s because it isn’t. I thought tonight deserved something special.”

Aziraphale lifted his glass and took a cautious sip. Then he smiled. “Crowley, why I say. Unless I miss my guess, this is Napoleonic brandy.”

“You haven’t and it is. I stored a case of it away years ago before leaving Paris. I thought you might like it.” Crowley frowned. “You do, don’t you?”

“Why yes, I do.” Aziraphale grinned and took another hearty sip. “Thank you, my dear. It’s exquisite. I suppose I am just surprised. It doesn’t seem like your usual style.”

Crowley finished what was in his glass and immediately poured himself another one. “Like I said, special occasion. It’s not every day you save the world and then are faced with your last night on it.”

It was probably due to the leftover jitters in his nerves after cleaning up what was left of Liger that Aziraphale almost had to ask Crowley what he meant by that. The Apocalypse had been cancelled and became, well, the Notpocalypse. Why was Crowley still convinced that they were doomed?

Then it came back to him all at once: Crowley had defied orders from Hell, and he had done the same with Heaven. Hell had already tried to retaliate, and Heaven…that was only a matter of time.

Aziraphale slowly sipped his drink. Through a tremendous effort of will, he had managed to let go of the torment he had felt over what could have happened to Crowley because he’d been too stubborn to consider the demon’s need for protection. However, thoughts of what Hell might do to Crowley were resurfacing.

Granted, he was vaguely aware that he had his own punishments waiting for him in Heaven, but those thoughts didn’t concern him as much as they had before during these last few centuries. Not when he could envision what Crowley could endure in graphic detail.

Crowley. Aziraphale had spent so long trying to deny the demon’s importance in his life, but now he couldn’t escape it. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to anymore.

Crowley slid down in his chair, taking generous swallows of his drink. It really wasn’t how one should enjoy such a superb brandy, but Crowley never had been one to take the time to fully appreciate the sensual qualities of food and drink. Especially alcohol. That was just a means to an end, and that end was becoming quite drunk.

Aziraphale leaned back in his chair. He found himself dwelling on other quirks of Crowley’s and on memories related to them. He thought about the demon’s swaggering walk and how it would usually turn heads. He thought about the hiss in Crowley’s voice when he was agitated or sleepy and how one zealous squire had thought that Crowley needed an exorcism. He thought about the impish chuckle that was unique to the demon and all the mischief that was surely behind even if it still managed to sound oh so endearing. He even thought about the way the soft lights in the bookshop would make Crowley’s eyes glow when his glasses were off and he tilted his head just right.

All those things that were an essential part of who the demon was, those little things that made Crowley…well, Crowley. When Hell got a hold of him, they would be stripped away from him, deliberately and violently.

Then he would be gone. Erased from existence as if he had never been at all. Not so much unlike Armageddon.

_“When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wiseley for soon enouff, ye will be playing with Fyre.”_

Aziraphale sat his glass down. Agnes Nutter’s last prophecy. He hadn’t gotten around to deciphering it the first time he had studied the book and committed it to memory. He was too focused on parts relevant to the coming Armageddon.

Now those words repeated themselves in an endless loop in his brain. Not always at the forefront, but never far from it.

He frowned. Every single one of Agnes’ prophecies had had a purpose. Granted, some of them were quite trivial purposes. Still, there had been a meaning behind all of them. Therefore, there had to be a meaning behind this one as well. There just had to be.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale could hear Crowley talking to him, but he couldn’t attend to that right now. His mind was busy reviewing the whole of Agnes’ prophecies: linking them with history and delving into the nuances of how she wrote about her visions. Aziraphale’s mind was drawing upon its vast resources to make thousands of connections, sifting through all of his existence to make a cohesive whole out of fragments of prophecy and the story of humanity.

What Aziraphale didn’t realize was that he was changing while he did it. The ambient flicker of angelic light that was always surrounding him was intensifying. An imprint of a halo circled around his head. His blue eyes were transitioning from studious and lively to dancing with holy fire. If a human had been in the room, they would have prostrated themselves by now.

And still, the angel’s mind continued onward, pulling strength from his own divinity to stretch his thoughts beyond what was needed to navigate this physical plane.

Searching…searching….

“Aziraphale?”

“_No_,” Aziraphale intoned, his voice a thunderclap. “_This…Cannot Be…All_….”

A strangled cough next to him finally diverted Aziraphale’s attention. He turned blazing eyes to see Crowley gaping at him. When their eyes met, a flinch shot through the demon’s body, creating a sharp twinge in Aziraphale’s heart.

In that instant, the spell was broken. The light faded, and Aziraphale stared at Crowley with eyes full of contrition.

“Oh my dear, I’m sorry. I was just…trying to think.”

Crowley cleared his throat as he sat up in his chair. “It’s all right. I guess I sometimes forget that you….” He waved a hand through the air as if he was trying to swat the rest of that thought away. “What were you thinking about? Or dare I ask?”

Aziraphale pulled the scrap of paper form his pocket and placed it onto the center of the table. “Agnes Nutter’s final prophecy. The rest of her book was, I believe the expression is, right on the money. And all of it was meant for others to act on.”

“And you think this one hasn’t happened already?” Crowley reached over to pick up the paper and examine it.

“I studied that book cover to cover, Crowley. This prophecy has nothing to do with anything that has happened so far.”

“Ok,” the demon nodded, putting the scrap back down. “But wasn’t that book supposed to be for her descendants? What makes you think it means anything to us?”

“Most of it was for her descendants, yes, but there was at least one prophecy that was directed at me. She must have known that I would eventually read her book. So it follows that there might be others that I was meant to know about.”

“All right, fair enough. So if this doesn’t have anything to do with Armageddon….”

“It doesn’t. I can assure you of that.”

“Right. So if it doesn’t, what does it mean for us?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’ve been thinking about that. And I believe I finally have the answer.”

The angel took a deep breath and began. He told Crowley of how he had interpreted it word by word and connected all of it to a plan that had just come to him. A plan to deal with Heaven and Hell’s potential next moves against them.

Throughout it all, Crowley watched him with languid eyes that did not alter their gaze for even a second. To most people, it would probably look like the demon was simply staring off into space, allowing his mind to wander freely. But to Aziraphale, who knew him better than anyone in the universe, excepting God, of course, Crowley was paying rapt attention to every word, carefully processing it as he went along.

Once Aziraphale was finished, there was a long stretch of silence. Too long for his comfort.

“I don’t like it.”

The angel blinked, and then sighed. He had hoped that Crowley would have a more positive response than that. “I know it’s a bit…unconventional, but I’m certain that that was what Agnes was trying to tell me. Or rather us, I suppose.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, the slits widening. “How can you be so certain?”

“I told you that I studied that book for hours. I think by now that I have a solid grasp on how she translated her visions into prophecies.”

The angel leaned toward Crowley. He hoped that he appeared reassuring, but worried that he wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Crowley, it’s not a great plan, but….”

The demon jumped up from his chair almost knocking it over. “I didn’t say that. I said that I didn’t like it. Sounds too much like something I’d come up with. It’s sneaky. You’ve got no business coming up with something so sneaky.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying that you would have liked it better if you had been the one to come up with it?”

“No, I’m not saying that either,” Crowley retorted with a snarl. “I don’t like it because it involves you going to Hell, angel.”

“To be fair, it also involves you going to Heaven in order for this to work. I don’t see how my going to Hell would be any different.”

“Of course it’s different,” Crowley replied, a hiss seeping into his voice. “I’ve been in Heaven, remember? And I’m sure it’s not any different from how it was back then. Is it?”

“Well, they did finally switch to a softer lighting. And some more windows. But otherwise, I imagine it looks just as you remember it.”

“Uh-huh, exactly,” Crowley said. “But you’ve never been to Hell. I have, and it’s no place for you. Do you know what they do to demons who disobey orders Down There? No you don’t, and I don’t want you to know. But I will tell you that it’s not pretty.”

“I don’t think simple punishment will be on their minds, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his voice soft. “I believe they mean to destroy us.”

“Exactly! And that’s why I’m not letting go Down Stairs and….”

“But that’s precisely why I must,” Aziraphale interrupted. “Don’t you see? The most effective way to kill a demon is with holy water. I’m not sure how they could collect some, but it’s the one thing that you can’t protect yourself against…and that I’m impervious to.”

“And what if they can’t get holy water?” Crowley said. “What if they use…I don’t know, Hellfire instead?”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly. “Why would they use Hellfire to punish a demon? It can’t harm you, can it?”

“No…most of the time….”

“Most of the time? Crowley, you’ve never said anything about….”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair. “Look, sure, Hellfire is what demons live with. But not all the time. Not non-stop and not all at once. We could hang out in a blaze of Hellfire for much longer than an angel ever could. But if it was burning hot enough and we are forced to stay in it for long enough…let’s just say that all the skin treatments in the universe would not be able to clear those burns up.”

Aziraphale’s eyes softened. “My dear, I had no idea it was so dangerous for you.”

Crowley turned to the side. “It’s not that bad, angel. As long as you keep on your toes, it’s not a problem. And it’s not as if I’d ever choose to linger in Hellfire long enough to cause any real damage.”

“Then it shouldn’t be a problem for me either,” Aziraphale said, nodding sagely. “Because I imagine they will want to choose a much swifter method to execute you. Patience is a virtue, and demons aren’t known for their virtues.”

“They still might use it, you know,” Crowley said. “They might want to make you, I mean me, suffer a bit before getting rid of me. And what then?” The demon turned his back toward Aziraphale and walked a couple of steps away. “No, we’re not doing this, angel, and that’s it.”

Aziraphale let out an exasperated huff. “Have you got any better ideas? Any at all?”

“Well…no. But give me a couple of days, and I’m sure I could come up with a broad outline of one.”

“A couple of days? Crowley, I doubt that we have that kind of time. It’s either this or….”

“No. I told you, I’m not doing it,” Crowley spat back. “You’re clever. You’ll come up with something else.”

“That’s just it. I have tried to come up with something, and this is all I have. Besides, Agnes hasn’t been wrong about any of her other predictions.”

Crowley shrugged. “First time for everything.”

“Of course there’s bound to be some risk involved. For both of us. But considering what is at stake…my dear why won’t you at least consider it?”

Crowley whirled toward him, the white of his eyes were gone. His breaths were coming out in short hisses and his teeth were bared.

“I thought you had burned once already. I’m not going through that again. Not for real.”

Aziraphale blinked hard again. “Burned? Crowley what are you talking…?”

He stopped when Crowley turned his back to him again, his arms crossing over his chest, and his shoulders slumping down. It was a defensive stance. Crowley was trying to protect himself from…something. Something that apparently was close to overwhelming him.

The sight made Aziraphale’s heart ache again. He frantically searched his brain to figure out what was wrong and, more importantly, find anything that might help Crowley.

Then it happened. Just like when Divine Inspiration enabled him to decipher Agnes’ prophecy, the angel felt everything fall into place.

“_Did you go to Alpha Centauri?”_

_“No. Changed my mind. I lost my best friend.”_

_“Your bookshop burned down.”_

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open.

_The bookshop burned…Crowley told me because he knew…he must have seen it happen. He was there. And he must have thought that….’_

_“I thought you had burned once already.”_

_“I lost my best friend.”_

_‘Oh….’_

Aziraphale swallowed hard. He had always known that he was…important to Crowley. That maybe they were friends, comrades at arms of sorts. Certainly, Crowley appeared to enjoy his company. Or at least gave every impression of not minding it.

_‘But friends? Best friends? Perhaps even more? Perhaps…?’_

_‘No, it couldn’t be. A demon loving an angel? It was impossible. Just like…like….’_

_‘An angel loving a demon?’_

A shiver ran down Aziraphale’s spine. Yes, just like that. Just like that mad, impossible thing which was nevertheless true. He loved Crowley. He understood that now. It had been an almost insurmountable burden to force himself to deny it for centuries, if not millennia.

Now that he had submitted to the truth, it all became clear to him, like water. And like water, it became soft, caressing, refreshing him from the weight he had struggled for so long, so very long.

_“I don’t even like you!”_

Aziraphale’s breath hitched in his throat. He regretted those words even as he had said them. Not surprising as they were a lie, of sorts. He hadn’t liked Crowley, he loved him. But that love could put Crowley in danger if they became too close. Aziraphale tried to convince himself that he was being kind to Crowley by pushing him away. Better for Crowley to be safe and resent him for Eternity than to stay by his side and risk destruction. It was a convincing argument. Or so Aziraphale had thought at the time.

However, seeing Crowley like this, overwrought and scared, was enough to convince the angel of how foolish he had been.

Worst of all was how Crowley had trusted him, always holding out his hand to him, only for Aziraphale to reject it over and over again. Too many times, Crowley was the one who had to initiate, to offer gestures of compassion and trust…and Aziraphale had always not reciprocated in kind.

The angel’s fingers curled into tight fists. He was supposed to be a being of love, and yet he couldn’t begin to catch up with the selflessness a demon had shown him. Perhaps the Quartermaster was right. He really had been a pathetic excuse for an angel.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t repent. That he couldn’t try harder to be who and what he was meant to be.

Decision made, Aziraphale stood up and marched over to Crowley, gently placing his hands onto the demon’s shoulders.

“Crowley, please….” He gingerly guided Crowley to turn and face him. Crowley complied, but still didn’t lower his arms or look him in the eye.

“Crowley, I am sorry. For all of it.” Aziraphale could feel the muscles in Crowley’s arms tighten, ready to pull away. The angel knew he would have to act quickly to prevent another confrontation.

Suddenly, he knew what needed to be done. He cupped Crowley’s chin tenderly, tilting his face toward him. Crowley didn’t have time to react before Aziraphale closed his eyes and kissed him on the cheek.

It was a brief kiss, gentle and chaste, but also infused with all the affection he felt for the demon. Aziraphale could feel his own face becoming hot, but did his best to ignore that sensation so he could focus on how soft and cool Crowley’s skin was.

When he pulled back, Aziraphale opened his eyes, a smile forcing itself onto his lips. Meanwhile, Crowley’s face was red, his mouth hanging open. He immediately pressed a hand to where Aziraphale had kissed him. The demon’s eyes were wide, confused and…something else Aziraphale couldn’t read.

Whatever it was, it was enough to open the door for doubt so it could worm its way in.

“I’m sorry, I was just….” Aziraphale paused to take a breath. “I should have told you long ago, Crowley that you’re my best friend too. You always have been. I was just too scared to tell you, scared of what might have happened to you and…. No, I was a coward, and I am so sorry for that. I love you, Crowley, and I….”

Aziraphale wasn’t able to finish that sentence due to Crowley grabbing him and pulling him into a fierce embrace. The demon’s arms were wrapped around him so tightly it almost hurt.

The angel had only enough to time to start to put his own arms around him before Crowley pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. Then, he reached down and took the angel’s face into his hands and pushed their foreheads together.

“_Listen_.”

_Aziraphale blinked, his eyes widening. Soon, his vision blurred and darkened. When it returned, he saw a sea of people, most of them grey, a few of them with muted colors. _

_Then he saw himself…no, that wasn’t quite right. He understood now that he was seeing through the eyes of Crowley’s mind. He was seeing himself as Crowley saw him._

_And what he saw were bright hues and encouraging smiles. He was a creature of light and warmth. Of comfort and concern. Memories of the two of them sharing a drink and nibbling at crepes and watching the stars together flowed through his mind. Thousands of moments when he had freed Crowley from a world of cruelty, indifference or, at best, fleeting pleasure. _

_All of it was held together by a thread of love, a golden thread with streaks of blue, the same gold and blue as their eyes. _

_It was such a surreal, yet blissful experience, Aziraphale barely noticed it when something else, something cold and empty, began to lurk around the edges. He has just started to attend to it when it overtook the rest of what he was seeing._

_It was fire. It was smoke and ash. It was fear and anger._

_It was loss._

_Then…nothing. Nothing but a crushing grief that drowned everything else. It reminded Aziraphale far too much of the Flood and the devastation left in its wake._

Suddenly, the connection was broken, and Aziraphale pulled himself back into his own mind. He blinked rapidly, trying his best to stop the tears that were threatening his eyes. He was still shaken by the experience, but he was far more worried about what he had seen in Crowley’s mind.

“Oh, Crowley,” he whispered. He ran his hands along the demon’s back. “I didn’t realize…my dear, I am so sorry.”

Crowley lowered his head so he could rest it on the angel’s shoulder, his grip on Aziraphale becoming like a vise.

“Angel, I…I can’t…I can’t lose you again.”

Aziraphale raised a hand to card his fingers through Crowley’s hair. His heart still hurt over the depth of despair he had seen in Crowley’s soul over his supposed death. He could feel sympathy and pity beginning to form, but Aziraphale stopped himself before they could take hold. Sympathy and pity were not what Crowley needed right now.

What he needed…what they both needed…was strength.

“You won’t,” he said, his voice firm, but kind. “This plan will work just as Agnes prophesied. Just like how she was able to see the rest of it.”

“But what if we’re wrong?” Crowley choked out. “What if you…?”

“I know, dear,” Aziraphale said, hushing him with more gentle pats. “And truth be told, I am scared of that too. But we must have faith.”

Crowley yanked his head up to stare at him. The stunned disbelief on his face could not be any clearer.

“Faith? You want a demon to have faith? Faith in what? In God? In Agnes Nutter?”

Aziraphale placed a palm onto Crowley’s cheek, his index finger sliding back and forth with a feather light touch.

“Faith in me, Crowley. Just as I have faith in you.”

The demon flinched at those words, and Aziraphale was worried that he might try to pull away again. Instead, Crowley went back to resting his head on his shoulder, his breaths shuddering. Aziraphale continued to hold him close, worried about how frayed Crowley’s nerves were becoming.

“Crowley, my dear, let’s go to bed.”

Something between a hiss and a squeak of surprise was the response he got to that idea. It was followed by Crowley jerking back up again, blinking at him furiously. As the implications of his words sank in, Aziraphale’s face became a vivid shade of pink. 

“I mean, we should rest. Well, you should rest anyway. We’ve had a long day: preventing Armageddon and thwarting the forces of Heaven and Hell. I think we are entitled to a respite from it all.”

It didn’t take long after all for Crowley’s usual humor to reassert itself. “I thought angels didn’t sleep,” he said, his customary smirk firmly in place.

“Of course we don’t have to,” Aziraphale said, doing a very good job, he thought, in avoiding any stammer. “But that doesn’t mean that we don’t need time to relax. And sleeping is a form of relaxation. Humans certainly thrive on it, and you appear to enjoy it a great deal. So I thought I could give it a go.”

The smirk widened. “And that’s all this is about, is it? Just relaxation?”

Aziraphale felt the tips of his ears burning. Before tonight, he would have made sure to have a thoroughly witty retort right on the tip of his tongue. Tonight though, wit seemed far less important than honesty.

“No. The truth is I don’t want to be alone tonight. Nor do I want you to be alone.”

The smirk on Crowley’s face fell away and was replaced with a look of pure fondness. He reached up to brush his hand through Aziraphale’s hair and then let his fingers slide down along a cheekbone. Aziraphale continued to gaze into his eyes as Crowley placed his palm flat against his face and leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

The kiss was not as chaste as Aziraphale’s had been, but it was every bit as gentle. Aziraphale’s eyes widened for a second, but then slid shut as he melted from the sensation of Crowley’s lips caressing his.

When he was finished, Crowley pulled back and raised his other hand so he could trace Aziraphale’s lips with his thumb.

“I need you with me tonight. Please, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale nodded silently, his head drooping so they could press their foreheads together again. His mind was filled with the feeling of their bodies so close together, holding each other. Soon, he realized that they were matching each other’s breaths and heartbeats.

Two rhythms became one, weaving together and creating their own resonance with the spaces around them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. This one is darker, so...heed the tags....
> 
> This chapter also fulfills another prompt for the Ineffable Husbands Bingo: "I believe in you."

Several minutes later, Crowley took him by the hand and guided him to the bedroom. There was only one bed which filled Aziraphale with an odd mix of apprehension and relief. Crowley waved his hand and was suddenly dressed in a set of black silk night clothes.

Wanting to get into the spirit of things, Aziraphale responded by conjuring up a matching set of pajamas. Although his were soft cotton with a light tartan pattern. His regular clothes ended up in a neatly folded pile on a nearby chair.

“Don’t you ever get tired of tartan?” Crowley said, a smile in his voice.

“Why? Tartan is nifty.” 

“Nifty? That…never mind, just get into bed, angel.”

Each of them settled into their own side of the bed, lying on their backs on top of the sheets and facing the ceiling. They stayed like that for a couple of awkward minutes before Crowley cleared his throat.

“Angel….”

Aziraphale could hear the unspoken request in that one word and rolled over to his side, holding his arms out to Crowley. The demon immediately shuffled over to snuggle against his chest and turn his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. Then the two of them maneuvered the blankets up onto them with Aziraphale going back to running his fingers through Crowley’s hair when they were finished.

Soon, the atmosphere changed. Crowley’s embrace became hungry, desperate. As if he feared the angel would disappear if he loosened his hold by even an inch. The shivers had returned, and Aziraphale wished he could erase whatever was eating at Crowley’s soul.

_“Don’t ever leave again.”_

Words that were on the edge between thoughts and whispers reached Aziraphale’s mind. His eyes dimmed, one hand going down to Crowley’s back so he could draw him closer.

_“I won’t, dearest. I promise.”_

Several moments passed in silence, calm starting to return. Aziraphale began to wonder if Crowley had fallen asleep at last.

“You weren’t wrong.”

The angel blinked. Something in the way Crowley said that filled him with dread, but he willed himself to be quiet. Even when he started to feel Crowley loosen his hold at last.

“Back then, when I asked you for the holy water, I….”

The demon blew out a long breath. Aziraphale could sense that Crowley was trying to find words for what he wanted to say, and he was determined to give him all the space he needed.

“A month before I did it, I’d completed another assignment in Yorkshire. I was sent there to work on a man who was getting a little too enlightened for Hell’s tastes. They wanted me to tempt him away from his current life path. Said he’d be a better fit for our lot. At the time, he was working as a councilman and did a lot of stuff with the local orphanage.”

Another long sigh tickled the skin on Aziraphale’s neck. He responded by stroking Crowley’s back.

“Hell was right about him. I only had to be around him for a couple of days to know that evil already had a firm root in him. All that was needed was for me to direct him toward something more suited to that nature. I thought…well, I figured that, if I was going to do that, it wasn’t a good idea for him to still be working with kids. So instead of going slow, like I usually did for something like this, I manipulated things so that some of his less than savory behaviors were exposed and blown up into a huge scandal. One that cost him his job and barred him from working at the orphanage.”

“And that was good for you to do,” Aziraphale said. There was no response, and he knew there was something deeply wrong. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

A bitter laugh from Crowley increased his discomfort.

“Oh sure, that was good. But then, I guess he decided that he needed to make the men who he thought engineered his downfall pay. He murdered them. He…he set their houses on fire while they were sleeping. And he didn’t care if there were people besides his intended victims in those houses. Women, children…all of them were burned to death. You know, one of those men had seven children. Seven. None of them made it out alive.”

Crowley pulled himself out of the angel’s arms, flopping back onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, and Aziraphale was disturbed by the blank look in his eyes.

“He did that five times before he was finally caught. And then one of his followers, someone who thought that justice hadn’t been done, decided that they needed to take up his cause. And he got to six more houses before he was taken care of too.”

Aziraphale’s heart clenched and he tried to reach over to Crowley, but the demon scooted away, sitting up and turning his back to him.

“You know, Beelzebub gave me a commendation for my work personally. For exceeding expectations. And I smiled. I was all smiles while I was awarded for causing kids to be burned alive. At least you had the decency to look sad about the Flood.”

Crowley swiveled his head to look back at him, a smirk of contempt on his lips. He turned away again a few seconds later, his posture rigid.

Aziraphale frowned. “Not you, Crowley. You said yourself that the seed of evil was already in him. He could have chosen to repent for his sins. Instead, he decided to slaughter people in a horrific campaign of revenge. You simply exposed him for what he truly was. It was free will, Crowley, not you.” 

Crowley twitched violently, clearly not expecting that answer. Then he shrugged and folded his legs to his chest.

The vise on Aziraphale’s heart tightened. He wanted to grab Crowley and shake him. To remind him over and over about all the good things he had seen him do. To yell at him until he got his point across. But he knew none of it would do any good.

Crowley’s voice was far more strained when he finally continued.

“That was when I started to think about it. I wondered, what if I didn’t always follow through with Hell’s orders? What if those orders got in the way of our Arrangement? What if….” Crowley’s breath hitched. “What you became one of their targets…and I was the one who they sent to take care of you?”

Crowley paused. For a moment, Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he would go on. Then the demon coughed and took another deep breath.

“The only thing that made sense to me was to get some insurance. In case I ended up in a situation where I knew I’d have to defy Hell’s orders. I needed a way to defend myself against the sort of demons they’d send after me. That’s originally why I wanted the holy water.”

Suddenly, Aziraphale’s tongue felt very dry. “Originally?”

Crowley shook his head, his back still facing the angel.

“After I asked for it, I, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. About what I had done and have been doing. I started to think, maybe if I could get some holy water I could use it for other things. I could use it to escape whatever punishment Hell would give me for defying orders. I could escape…all of it. Everything. Eventually, it became the only thing I could think about: how I could put an end to all this, how badly I wanted to.”

Aziraphale’s eyes watered up again. He had refrained from letting his feelings divert the conversation thus far, determined to let Crowley say what he needed to without interruption. But he also knew that his heart would break if he waited a second longer.

He sat up and scooted over to sit behind Crowley, looping his arms around the demon’s torso and resting his head against his back. Crowley did not move and was as unyielding as a statue.

“Then I thought, no, I just need to get away from it all. Give myself time to get my head back together. So I took a nap. I had already spent a huge portion of that century sleeping, so what was a few more years? I figured that I’d wake up and find something else to think about and move on. What I woke up to was World War One.”

There was another shudder, and Aziraphale planted a light kiss on Crowley’s neck. The demon still showed no reaction other than to keep talking.

“I saw Death strolling around those battlefields. They were really in their element there, weren’t they? I didn’t see War, but I’m sure she was having a grand old time too. I saw bodies blown to pieces, corpses sinking into the mud. And just knew that you were out there somewhere, trying to help wherever you could. And I knew that, if you saw me, your first thought would be that I did this. That I was….”

Crowley bowed his head. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear you looking at me and thinking that. I ran. I ran to the remotest part of Earth I could find. I even ran from Hell who was all ready to give yet another commendation. If I had had the holy water then, I…I don’t know if I would have been able to stop myself from using it. All these years later, and I still don’t know for sure which way it would have gone.”

Tears wobbled in Aziraphale’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He didn’t want Crowley to be distracted by his distress. He tried focusing on anger instead. Anger that he hadn’t even realized that Crowley had been in so much pain.

Anger that hadn’t bothered to find that out.

“I slept for a few more years and then woke up and decided that I needed to move on. Got the Bentley and spent my time shadowing key figures from more than one government in Europe. It’s how I got involved with the intelligence network that cropped up after the war. It was easy work. Just take credit for a few carefully selected misdeeds and keep my eyes and ears open.”

Crowley paused and seemed to finally notice Aziraphale’s hands clasped across his stomach. He reached down to touch them, his fingers lightly caressing them. Then the spell was broken, and he pulled Aziraphale’s hands apart so he could extract himself from the angel’s arms. Aziraphale felt his heart break a little more, but said nothing.

“I’d heard about you during the Second World War,” Crowley added. “About how you were helping people escape the Nazis. And I figured it was only a matter of time before you attracted their attention. So I stayed in London, just in case you needed my help.”

The demon finally turned to the side so he could look at him. “Seeing you in that church after all those years…I knew from the very first second it would be worth the blisters I would get on my feet. Knowing that you could still look at me like…like that….”

Unable to stop it, a tear finally slid down Aziraphale’s cheek.

“I missed you,” he choked out. “So much, I….”

Crowley blinked hard, surprise evident in his eyes. The shock wore off quickly though, and the wariness soon returned. Aziraphale’s eyes flicked downward. He could feel another tear sliding down and mentally cursed himself for his weakness. 

Suddenly, he felt a hand touch his cheek. He looked back up to see Crowley studying him with a mix of sadness and fondness. Crowley brushed away the next tear before it could get past his nose.

“I missed you too, angel,” he said, his voice so gentle and soft, Aziraphale felt his heart quiver. Crowley held that hand there for a moment more before finally lowering it and turning away again.

“That night, I realized that I didn’t want the holy water for…that…anymore. I wanted it so we could keep the Arrangement, this thing between us, going. I wanted it so I could defend myself and you if needed. I swear to you, angel, that’s all it was from that point on.”

“I believe you,” Aziraphale murmured.

Crowley whirled to face him, rage blazing in his eyes. “Why? I’m a demon. Demons lie.”

“They do,” Aziraphale said, his voice quiet, but firm. “But you don’t. Not to me.”

Crowley scowled, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Crowley, I don’t understand. What are you…?”

“All of this,” Crowley snarled. “Why are you here? Why are you going through with this plan that could get you killed? Why…why are you…?”

Aziraphale’s eyes softened. “Because I love you.”

The amber glow in Crowley’s eyes was venomous, a look the demon had never directed at him before. Before he could say another word, Crowley turned away and moved to the edge of the bed, his head hanging down and falling into his hands.

Aziraphale looked down at the bed sheets, his arms wrapping around his midsection. This rejection hurt, and he didn’t know how Crowley had been able to stand it when he was the one pushing the demon away.

_‘Why is he doing this? I thought…I thought he….’_

The angel’s head snapped up. His blue eyes lit up as he realized what this was: a challenge. A dare. _See me as I am, angel. A twisted, unrepentant demon. A being incapable of love and unworthy of it. Do you love me now?_

_Do you dare?_

Aziraphale ground his jaw, his gaze hardening. He wasn’t used to Crowley underestimating him.

“Crowley, you are a demon, but that’s not everything that defines you. You are far more than that. You are your heart, a heart that is big enough to care for humanity…and for an angel who needed you so many times through the millennia. You are your actions, the miracles you performed that were good, including ones that weren’t merely part of our Arrangement. And the times when you saved me…in so many ways….”

Crowley’s breaths were growing heavy, labored. Aziraphale reached over and turned him around again.

“Angel,” he stammered. “I…I….”

Aziraphale took his hand. “What is it, dear?” Crowley gripped his hand back, holding it against his stomach. Aziraphale had to force himself to refrain from letting out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know if I can,” Crowley replied. He looked up, his eyes more lost than Aziraphale could ever remember. “I don’t know if I can do…this. This…er….”

“This? You mean loving me?”

Crowley nodded several times, his gaze settling on his lap. “I…I want to. Want it more than anything. Want…need…you. But I don’t know if I can do it. Not the way you….”

“Crowley, you already do,” Aziraphale murmured. “Remember, I am an angel. I can see love, and I see so much of it when I look at you. It was probably there all along. I had just let myself be blind to what my heart knew was there.”

Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley’s waist, pulling him closer. “It doesn’t matter to me if you don’t say the words or even if you never say them. The words mean nothing compared to the sum of everything you’ve done for me.”

“Aziraphale…I’m still a demon. I could…hurt you.”

“Crowley, we both know by now that angels and demons are equally capable of inflicting hurt,” Aziraphale replied. “And I know that I’ve hurt you in the past. I am so sorry that I have. I wish I could say that I never will again, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

Aziraphale put his hand under Crowley’s chin and lifted it so they were looking into each other’s eyes.

“We’re not perfect, Crowley,” he breathed. “I hurt you, you’ve hurt me. We may do it again…but it’s all right. Because that won’t change the love I have for you. The love I will always have for you.”

Crowley stared at him, dumbfounded. Then he reached up and cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands.

“You have to come back,” he said. “You hear me, angel? You can’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t.” Aziraphale turned his face so he could place a kiss onto Crowley’s palm. Then he covered the demon’s hands with his own. “I will always come back to you, Anthony J. Crowley. So you must promise me that you will do the same.”

Determination, strong and vibrant, shined in Crowley eyes. “I will. I swear it. I’m not letting those bastards win.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and pulled Crowley into his arms. Joy swelled inside him when the embrace he got in return was no longer marked by fear or hesitation. It was confident, warm and dedicated.

He guided Crowley to lie back down with him, making sure to keep him in his arms. Then wings, snowy white and fluffy appeared, enveloping Crowley.

Crowley looked up at the cocoon of white surrounding him. “Just like Eden,” he breathed. Then he turned his eyes toward Aziraphale’s. “Why did you do that? That first day. Why did you let me under your wing?”

Aziraphale smiled at him.“Because you needed me to. And even though I didn’t realize it at the time, I needed you there too.”

A grin, wide and content, stretched across Crowley’s face. “Angel….”

Aziraphale’s smile grew, creating a soft glow throughout the feathers surrounding Crowley. Then he stroked the demon’s cheek. “I’m here, dearest. I always will be. Rest now.”

Crowley’s eyes drifted shut, the smile still on his lips. He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, Aziraphale could feel his body becoming languid in his arms. Then he felt himself relax as he watched Crowley fall asleep. The demon’s slow, even breaths soothed him like the sound of water lapping against a sandy shore.

Only after he was certain that Crowley was slumbering did he allow the worried frown that was teasing the corners of his mouth to appear. Aziraphale believed in Anges Nutter’s prophecy, believed in the plan he had devised, and believed in Crowley’s strength of will to do his part to pull it off.

However, none of that could completely erase the doubt that persisted in the back of his mind. Or the fear. Fear not just for himself, but for the person he had enveloped in his arms and wings.

Azirphale sighed. This was not the first time that he had held the lives of others in his hands, but he couldn’t not recall a time when the weight of his responsibility had felt so heavy. He always dreaded failure, but the thought of failing this time was unbearable.

A sleepy snuffle from Crowley caught his attention. The demon stirred, and Aziraphale stroked his hair until Crowley became still again. There was a light snore, and the angel wondered if Crowley knew how precious he looked while he slept.

That moment of affection renewed his determination. He was Aziraphale, Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate. He was meant to spread God’s love to the world through compassion and protection. He didn’t like to fight, but he would do so every time to protect the world and the one he loved with his entire being.

He would be strong. He would protect Crowley.

He would not fail. Not this time.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, holding Crowley even closer to him. Morning would come all too soon. They would have to face a battle unlike any they have experienced before. But Aziraphale no longer saw this night as a possible end.

It was the beginning. The beginning of what they were always meant to be.


End file.
